Return To Hogsmeade
by dutchtulips
Summary: R/Hr, as always. HP/Sweet Home Alabama crossover, with Hermione as Melanie, who is engaged to be married to Viktor Krum back in London, but first has to go home and tie up a few loose ends with the husband she left back home. . . (ch. 7 up)
1. The Proposal

**SD ~ **JKR owns the lovely characters, I'm just borrowing them at said time. The movie "Sweet Home Alabama" (which you should _definitely_ go see if you haven't), belongs to Andy Tennant and Touchstone Pictures. 

**AN ~ **All right, keep in mind that I did some things that they did in the movie (i.e., Melanie changing her last name and lying about her past, as will Hermione) in my story to stay loyal to the movie, though I did do a few things different. I also had to make up first names for Hermione's parents, as how they "don't have any" in the HP series. Dedicated to all of my fans and fellow R/Hr shipmates! enjoy ;-) 

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**Return To Hogsmeade**

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****-dutchtulips- 

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_Fifteen-year-old Hermione Granger sat in Greenhouse Two that Spring afternoon, enjoying the warm sunshine as she perched on her stool, pruning the purple rosebush that was sitting on the floor in front of her. She looked exasperated, but in an amused sort of way, as she stared hard at the blossoming plant in front of her, scrutinizing her work._

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_From the rosebush to her right, fifteen-year-old Ron Weasley bumped her, for the second time. "Well?"_

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_Hermione looked over at him, a smile tugging at her lips. "Well what?"_

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_"Answer my question."_

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_She turned back to her work. "No."_

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_The redhead's brow furrowed. "No you won't answer, or no, you won't marry me?"_

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_Hermione didn't say anything; instead she tightened her fingers around her pruning shears and snapped a withering branch off of her bush. The tool had barely been in her hands for two minutes before Ron pulled the shears out of her grasp, silently demanding an answer._

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_"You're so immature," she mumbled._

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_Now Ron's eyebrows arched amusedly. Gently he reached over and took her chin, tilting her face so she would look at him. He gave her a look, silently asking her to reply._

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_"Oh, Ron!" She exclaimed, exasperated as she tousled her bushy brown hair. "Why would you want to marry me, anyway?"_

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_That was when he gave her his classic lopsided smile and, pausing a moment before answering, as if he'd been waiting forever to say the following words, replied, "So that I can kiss you anytime I want."_

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_Hermione couldn't help it then; a large grin overtook her face, lighting up her lovely face. As Ron slowly leaned in, his lips coming softly down onto hers, she gave in and kissed back, the purple rosebushes neatly obscuring them from view._

*** 

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**10 Years Later**

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*** 

A thunderclap sounded from outside as rain drummed against the window of twenty-five-year-old Hermione's office at the _Daily Prophet_. The young brunette witch herself, who had previously been dozing, stirred, her head resting against one sprawled-out arm. Slowly she blinked, lifted her head from the desktop, and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Hermione looked down at the finished article she'd been working on, gathered up the sheets of parchment, stuffed them in her knapsack, and started quickly out of her office. 

The sheet of translucent glass on her door rattled as Hermione closed it, and no sooner had she turned around that Hermione found herself face-to-face with the _Daily Prophet_'s editor-in-chief and her boss, Daniel McGregor. He was wearing bottle green robes and an ear-to-ear grin. Hermione obliged, beaming right back at him. "Dan!" 

"Ah ha! There she is! My star reporter!" Daniel exclaimed. 

"Yes," she smiled, walking briskly down the corridor, Daniel at her heels. "And I think that you'll be enraptured to know that I've finished that follow-up article on Mafalda Hopkirk's promotion to Deputy Mistress of Magic at the Ministry." Hermione stopped momentarily at a silver jug in the hallway to pur herself a cup of pumpkin juice. "Hot, hot news, Danny!" 

"Didn't I tell you that you would be going places, Hermy!" He exclaimed, hugging her in happiness. "You're going to make the _Daily Prophet_ the biggest selling newspaper in the world!" 

Hermione rolled her eyes amusedly. "Just as long as you don't make me out to be another Rita Skeeter, and we'll get along just fine, okay, Danny?" 

"Anything you say, Hermy!" He exclaimed. Suddenly his tone dropped and he said sincerely, "But just look at you. Hermione Clarke, you come out of that tiny little village of Hogsmeade and now you're my star!" 

All she could do was laugh as she left Daniel in the corridor and left the _Daily Prophet _office, slipping into the evening crowd in Diagon Alley and heading up the street for the Leaky Cauldron. 

*** 

Hermione, who lived in a wizard village just outside of London called St. Mungo's, where the wizard hospital was located, had just unlocked the front door to her small house when she was met with a shower of colorful sparkles of pink, blue, and gold. Shielding her eyes from them and laughing at the same time, the curly-haired witch stepped further into her living room and her eyes fell upon Mimi, her tawny owl. Mimi had a papyrus envelope clutched in her beak. Eagerly Hermione reached out for it and withdrew a letter from it. 

_Hermione ~_

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_How are you doing today, love? I picked up the Daily Prophet today and I just had to write to my sweetheart and tell her that I think she's going to become the biggest news reporter in Europe! You keep listening to Mr. McGregor, he knows what he's talking about! Have you given any thought to my invitation? Christmas in Bulgaria this year with my family? We can discuss it at dinner tomorrow night, after my Quidditch game, okay? See you then!_

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_I Love You,_

_Viktor_

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__Hermione beamed at the note. Wasn't he just so thoughtful!Carefully she folded the letter and slipped it into her pocket, and then reached her hand into a jar of owl treats sitting on the windowsill. Stroking Mimi's wing lovingly, Hermione fed her the treat, happy and cheerful for the news her owl had brought. 

*** 

The next night, Hermione was working late. As she and her fellow _Daily Prophet_ reporter and close friend Maya sat around Hermione's desk in her office, they were busy at work finishing their newest article about the latest goings-on at the Ministry of Magic, specifically a number of stunning promotions. While they were working, the W.W.N. was playing softly from the radio on Hermione's desk. 

At the moment, though, the curly-haired witch was alone, after Maya had stepped out a moment to get them something to drink. Minutes later she returned, toting two goblets of pumpkin juice and the just-off-the-press evening edition of the _Daily Prophet_. Maya appeared to be reading it intensely. 

Hermione looked up upon her friend's return, laying her quill aside and sighing though when Maya sat back down. "Cripes, what is in there really to read, that you haven't already?" 

"I was just taking the chance to gawk at your boyfriend." Maya brandished the front page of the newspaper, and then began to read from it. "_At tonight's Quidditch semi-finals, Bulgaria at France, it was clearly Viktor Krum who took the cake, nabbing the Most-Valuable-Player award for himself in this match. By his spectacular catching of the Snitch that pulled off an awesome comeback by Bulgaria - to win the semi-finals 190-180 - Krum is a prime example of a Quidditch career that gets more spectacular with every passing year."_

Hermione felt herself blushing. 

"Herm, you've got to face the facts," Maya said, setting the paper down atop the desk. "You're the most envied woman in the entire wizarding world." 

The brown-eyed witch looked down at the newspaper, seeing the photo of Viktor Krum smiling and winking back up at her. The grin on Hermione's face widened as she looked at it. 

Then her friend's voice: "Please tell me he has _one_ flaw." 

She picked up the _Daily Prophet_, and then said, "He asked me to spend Christmas in Bulgaria with him." 

"Trust me, Herm," Maya said, twirling a lock of her blond hair, "He's going to be asking you more than that soon enough." 

Hermione's stomach fluttered as she looked back up at her co-worker. "You really think so?" 

She nodded. "A catch like Viktor Krum? You had better believe it." 

She returned Maya's smile as they both looked down at the paper, although another thought was swirling inside of Hermione's head. 

*** 

Later on that night, after Hermione had ran some Sleakeazy's through her hair and put on her favorite scarlet dress robes, she Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, where she stood at the courtyard door nervously, waiting for Viktor to arrive from his Quidditch game. Reporters from _Quidditch Weekly, Witch Weekly, _the _Daily Prophet, _and a number of other periodicals were buzzing around, knowing that wherever Hermione Clarke was, Viktor Krum would surely be. They'd attempted a few questions from her, but she'd simply ignored them. 

At first Hermione didn't see him, as he was wearing black dress robes, or even hear him, but suddenly out of nowhere, Viktor Krum himself was there next to her, one arm wrapped around her waist. Kissing her cheek, he said softly, "Herm-own-ninny. Vhere you are." 

The reporters, upon noticing him, rushed eagerly towards Viktor, tumbling over each other for the chance to be the first to get an interview from him. But Viktor said nothing; he swept his arm to the side to clear the way for himself and for Hermione, and they disappeared through the courtyard door and out to Diagon Alley. 

The couple blended into the small nighttime crowd easily. "So," Viktor asked her after a moment, " Haff you given any thought to spending Christmas in Bulgaria vith me and vamily?" 

"Oh, Viktor, that's still months away," Hermione replied, slipping her hand inside of his as they approached their restaurant, King Arthur's Court. 

But Viktor led her right past it, as they walked together up the street to a small, dark shop. Confused, Hermione turned to her boyfriend, only to find that he was smiling enigmatically. "I thought we were having dinner. Where are we going?" She wanted to know. 

"You'll see," he told her, creaking open the door of the pitch-dark store and leading her inside. Hermione attempted to look around after she'd went in, but to no avail. Giggling nervously as Viktor rejoined her after closing the door, she asked, "Where are we?" 

He said nothing. Slipping his wand from his pocket, he casually gave it a wave, and suddenly the shop was illuminated, revealing lines of counters with rows of velvet-cushioned rings resting atop them. 

Hermione, mouth dropping open, was astonished. The sight had rendered her utterly speechless, and when Viktor stepped forward and bent down on his knee in front of her, she couldn't even breathe, let alone speak. 

Smiling, the Bulgarian Quidditch player said to her, very softly, "Herm-own-ninny, vill you marry me?" 

"I. . .I. . .Oh my stars," She was in complete disbelief. "I. . .Viktor, are you sure? I mean, because if you're not, we can just go right back home and -" 

He blinked and rose, peering at her in confusion. "Herm-own-ninny, calm down. Yes, I'm very sure. Now, please. Vill you? Vill you marry me?" 

Suddenly all Hermione could do was grin, and one single word rolled off of her tongue. "Yes!" She exclaimed. "Yes! Yes!" 

At that moment, Viktor swept her up happily and spun her around, Hermione clinging to his neck. At last he put her down, giving her a gentle push towards the wide selection of engagement rings. "Go ahead. Pick one." 

*** 

Sometime later, the couple were walking back up the street in the direction of King Arthur's Court, Viktor holding his new bride-to-be close to him. Hermione couldn't take her eyes off of her ruby engagement ring, which seemed to manage to sparkle at her even in the dim moonlight. 

"I can't vait until ve tell my mother, she'll go crazy," Viktor murmured as Hermione reached up and planted a kiss on his cheek. 

"What?" Hermione suddenly said. 

"She's meeting us at the restaurant," he told her. Abruptly a thought came to him. "I've got an idea! Let's go see your parents tonight and break the news! Do they not still live in Hogsmeade?" 

It was true; after Hermione had graduated from Hogwarts and moved to Hogsmeade, she'd persuaded her parents to come and live with her. And although they were Muggles, they had agreed to be close to their daughter. Even though Hermione had moved away five years ago, they remained there still. Except Viktor didn't know that they were. As far as he knew, Hermione's parents were a witch and wizard, magic folk just as she was. 

"No!" She exclaimed, stopping in her tracks. "I mean, yes! Yes, they do still live in Hogsmeade, but I thought that, you know, maybe we'd wait a little while before telling them." Pause. "And I think I should go alone. I mean, I haven't seen them in so long." 

"Oh. . .vell, all vright," Viktor replied slowly, and then smiled. 

They reached King Arthur's Court and were just about to head up the front path and go inside, but Viktor's mother, Portia Krum, was waiting from them at the door. She brightened considerably when she saw them. "Viktor, dear!" Mrs. Krum exclaimed, hugging him. "You voodn't believe it - all uff these newspaper reporters inside are vanting a vord vith you! About your Quidditch game tonight!" 

Viktor looked over at Hermione and sighed. "I suppose I'd better take care uff them, Herm-own-ninny. You can vait out here if you like." 

"Okay," she replied, watching her fiancé disappear up inside the restaurant. Turning to Portia then, Hermione held out her hand, saying, "It's good to see you again, Mrs. Krum." 

The older woman smiled, taking Hermione's hand and shaking it. "You as vell, Herm-own-ninny." Pause. "You know, you voodn't believe vat else those reporters are buzzing about! It seems they think vhat you and Viktor vent out to get engaged tonight!" 

Mrs. Krum had not yet let go of Hermione's hand and, as the younger witch attempted to wrench it away, her ring started to slide from her finger. "Oh, oh stars -" She murmured, but Mrs. Krum had heard. 

"Vat is vrong, dear?" She asked, following Hermione's look downward and seeing something sparkle on the curly-haired witch's finger. Mrs. Krum immediately grasped her wrist to get a better look at the ruby engagement ring, just as the reporters were filing out of the restaurant. 

"Please, Mrs. Krum, Viktor and I just wanted to keep this -" Hermione started to say, but was cut off. 

"Oh my stars! You and Viktor are _engaged_!" She exclaimed, and a second later, the newspaper reporters had promptly gathered all around them, as noisy as a swarm of bees. 

Hermione's shoulders slumped and she sighed. " - Quiet." 

*** 

**To Be Continued**


	2. The Reunion

**Return To Hogsmeade**

**Chapter Two**

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****-dutchtulips- 

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Only a few days later, Hermione was on the Knight Bus, which had just pulled out of London and was making way for all stops in England. She was the only one headed for Hogsmeade, and was feeling extremely relieved for that. Currently she was sitting across her bed, staring into the recently installed fireplace (the Knight Bus pulled out all of the stops nowadays) where Maya's blond head was sitting atop in hearth and in the middle of yellow flames. 

"I told you!" She was exclaiming. "I told you that Viktor would propose to you! That's why he asked you to Bulgaria for Christmas! To introduce his new wife to his family!" 

"Half-right," Hermione corrected. "That's when he wants us to get married." 

"So what are you doing on the Knight Bus? Shouldn't you be celebrating with Viktor?" Maya wanted to know. 

The curly-haired witch paused for a moment before responding. "I'm, er, I'm off to Hogsmeade." 

Maya's eyebrows shot up and, after a long moment of quiet, she said, "Oh my stars. . ." 

For some unknown reason at that moment, Hermione found herself attempting to suppress a smile. "Well, I suppose I'll be seeing you back at the newsroom in a week or so. . .just until I can get this whole thing -" 

The Knight Bus conductor's voice suddenly rumbled out with, "Hogsmeade!" and the vehicle slowed to a stop. As Hermione got up and started for her trunk, Maya gave a last goodbye and her head disappeared from the fire. "'Bye," she replied as she dragged her luggage to the front of the bus. After Hermione got off, the Knight Bus behind her disappeared with a roar of its engine, leaving the young witch alone. 

The muggy air was getting to her, so she pulled her hair back with a ribbon and slipped some sunglasses out of her pocket, and put them on. With a casual wave of her wand, Hermione bewitched her trunk to hover alongside her as she walked. Now that she was back in her village that she'd lived in for five years after leaving Hogwarts, she almost felt as if time had never passed. Hermione knew this place still like the back of her hand, and the first stop in her tour took almost no thought whatsoever to get to. Swiftly she started down the road, her luggage following obediently after her, but not before she was careful to slip off her engagement ring and tuck it into her robe pocket. 

After about two more streets up, where the magic shops turned into quiet neighborhoods, Hermione found herself looking at the second of houses she'd called home here in Hogsmeade - a grand old cottage with a sweeping front porch. On the porch was a oak swing, lined with a plush purple cushion, and a pair of pruning shears and a watering can sat by the front door. Lying near the front steps was a large ginger cat, lounging in the warm sun. Upon settling its round yellow eyes upon Hermione, it began to meow quite loudly. 

A minute later, the screen door flew open and out stepped a tall, red-haired figure who was toting a can of broomstick polish. His hands, face, and the front of his robes were somewhat grimy with dirt. Upon seeing him, Hermione hurriedly set her trunk to the ground and turned back around to face him. 

Referring to the cat on the porch, the man said, "Ah, don't worry 'bout him. He's pretty tough but he won't hurt you." The redhead looked up at Hermione, smiling politely. "Now, what can I do for you?" 

Hermione crossed her arms, saying, "Well, for starters, you can haul your stubborn prat of a self down here and get me our divorce." 

Ron Weasley's eyes grew twice their normal size and with a _thunk_, promptly dropped the broomstick polish, realizing who had been knocking at his gates. "What are you playing at, 'Mione?" He asked, sighing and letting his shoulders drop. 

Yanking off the sunglasses and replacing them back into her pocket, she started in right away. "You know, I really don't know. I really have never figured out what that stupid expression means, but I'm not playing at anything. Just get over here and sign the papers." Quickly, Hermione waved her wand at her trunk. It popped open, and she reached in and withdrew a few rolls of parchment. "See, there's one for you, one for me, and one for the people at the Dissolution of Matrimony office at the Ministry of Magic." 

The ginger cat continued to mew loudly. 

"You come here, after five years, without so much as a 'Hello, Ron, how've you been? Remember me? Your _wife_?' " He snapped, slowly starting down the front steps to meet her. " 'Mione, have you even been to see your parents first?" 

She glared at him. "That's my business! Now quit sending them back! The damned Dissolution of Matrimony office billed me a sackful of galleons every time you did!" She shoved the parchment into his hands. "So will you just sign the papers?" 

He just sort of shrugged, returning them to her grasp. "Naw, I don't think I will, thanks," he replied over the cat's racket. 

"Be _quiet_, Crookshanks!" Hermione and Ron said together, though it was not the name 'Crookshanks' that echoed in the latter's interjection, but 'Gizmo.' 

The curly-haired witch stared at the cat, and then back to Ron, stammering, "What - what happened to Crookshanks?" 

Ron sighed. "He died," he said shortly, starting back up the steps. "You weren't here. No surprise to me." 

Hermione considered that for a moment, but then darted up the porch after the redhead. "_Hey_! You incompetent, stubborn, living-in-the-middle-of-nowhere git! Would you just sign the damn papers!" 

He stopped, standing in the open screen door doorway before letting it swing shut and, right before slamming the front door closed, said, "You know, 'Mione, I don't like your attitude! You've turned into some sassy, rude, big-city snob! So _if_ you don't mind, I've got more important things to do than waste my time talking to you!" 

The window blind snapped up as Ron shut the door, and he tore at it desperately to obscure Hermione from view, who was standing right on the other side, watching him pathetically as the blind kept flipped up until finally he gave up and sauntered off. 

Inside the house, Ron had just dropped down onto the sofa, but then jumped up again as if he were sitting on a bucket of hot coals. Running swiftly for the back door, the redhead closed it tightly and slid the bolt, then on the way back closed a few opened windows. It hadn't taken long, but as soon as he'd stepped back into the living room, there was Hermione, perched in an overstuffed armchair. 

"Oh, Ronnie, dear, next time you lock your wife out, make sure she doesn't know where the other key is hidden." She held a single silver key out in front of him. 

He sighed dejectedly, snapping, "What do you want from me?" 

She rolled her eyes, producing the scrolls once more. "As if I haven't made it already clear! Sign the divorce papers so that I can catch the Knight Bus and go back home to London!" 

Ron backed away from her, walking into the kitchen and opening the icebox to take out a butterbeer. Popping the top on the bottle, he said, "You've got about three seconds before I call up the Auror chief to haul you out of here!" He started for the fireplace to call for the Auror chieftain. 

"_Oh_!" She exclaimed, chasing after him. "You wouldn't! You know that old warlock Chester never liked me, back when I still lived here!" 

"Well,. . .serve you right!" Ron shot back, seizing a container of glittery powder to throw into the flames. 

*** 

Not long had passed before the Auror chief arrived at the Weasley home, where Ron met with him at the back door. Hermione, meanwhile, was trying to cower behind the sofa so that no one would be able to catch a glimpse of her. 

"So who's up in here causing trouble?" A singsong, familiar voice rang out. 

Hermione's worry dropped away and a happiness welled up inside of her as she recognized that voice. Darting up from her hiding place, she spotted Harry, who was wearing black robes, coming inside and making his way towards her. "My stars, Harry?!" She rushed forward to hug him tight. 

"Hey, hey!" He replied in a tone as cheery as hers, returning her hug. "It's been way too long! It's so great to see you again!" 

Hermione loosened her embrace on him. "It's good to see you, too! When did you get to be Auror chief around here?" 

"Oh, awhile ago, after ol' Chester retired to Tahiti. I hear all of that sunshine is doing wonders for him," Harry replied lightly, smiling. 

She laughed, and then said, "Got a few tricks still up your sleeve, have you, Harry?" 

"No more than usual." 

Hermione grinned and hugged him again, noticing over his shoulder that Ron, who had been hanging back, was approaching them now. "Well, aren't you going to take her uptown for breaking and entering?" 

Harry looked over at his old friend. "Now, Herm, if you've done that. . ." 

"No, Harry! I have my key!" She exclaimed, plunging her hand into the pocket of her robes and pulling out the silver key. 

The raven-haired wizard glanced back at his redhead mate, who was speaking again. "Well, she's definitely been harassing me, here!" 

Hermione jumped in, clutching the scrolls. "Only to get him to sign these papers, Harry!" She thrust them in his face. 

Harry took them and stared down at the parchment for a few moments, and then said, "Well, divorce proceedings!" Looking back up, "Well, then, it seems you two are still married! This isn't more than just a little domestic spat." And then, to Ron, "Not too much I can do 'bout that, mate. Sorry." 

Ron sighed in disgust, but Hermione was wearing a pleased look on her face as Harry started for the door. "See you two around, I've got to be getting back uptown." But halfway there, Ron intercepted him. 

"Wait! Just hold on for a minute there! What about that bewitching to Gladrags Wizardwear a few years back, when the doors wouldn't open for hours! Vandalism, I believe! That was little Miss News Reporter, right here!" The redhead exclaimed, wildly gesturing in Hermione's direction. 

"_Oh_!" She half-screamed, affronted. "And who exactly was in on that little bit of nighttime fun _with_ me? Yes, Mister Know-It-All Weasley right here!" 

Harry glanced back and forth between his two best friends. "Oh, just drop it you two," he sighed, half-amused nonetheless. Turning to Hermione, he said, "Herm, have you dropped in to see your parents yet?" 

She stared down at the carpet. "Well, no, not exactly, yet," she admitted. 

The raven-haired Auror reached over and took hold of her arm. "Well, come on then, I'll bring you back into town with me. Let's go." 

Hermione struggled against him as they ambled out the back door. "No, Harry, I don't have that much time. Can't you please just let me get Ron to sign the papers? Oh, come on, Harry, let go of me, this is childish -" 

He looked over at her. "It's best you give Ron space to cool down. You know how he can be." 

The redhead suddenly appeared at the screen door. "Oh, how is it I can be, exactly?" He questioned. 

Harry averted his eyes as he led Hermione away from the house. "Er. . .no comment, mate." 

*** 

It was nighttime by the time Hermione had departed from uptown and in the direction of her parents' home. Charlotte Granger, her dear old mum, was pleased indeed to see Hermione standing on the doorstep when she opened it up in response to the ringing bell. Pushing the screen door opened wider, she exclaimed, pulling her daughter into a hug, "Oh my stars, Hermione! It's so wonderful to see you!" 

"Yeah," the curly-haired witch replied weakly, awkwardly returning her mother's embrace. "Yeah, I'm in town for a few days, wrapping up some loose ends, you know." 

John Granger, her dad, of course, suddenly appeared at the door, trading hugs with his daughter as well. "Well, look at you! My little Hermy has surely become quite the young lady, hasn't she?" 

"Yeah, Dad, I'm really doing well for myself in London," she smiled. "It's really great." 

Mr. Granger helped haul Hermione's luggage into the house, and then she and her dad sat down in the living room while Mrs. Granger rushed off to the kitchen to make some tea. 

As he leaned back into his armchair, Hermione's father glanced over at her and attempted some small talk. "So what's been going on, dear?" 

She ruffled her nutmeg locks in thought, and then said wearily, "Well, I. . .I've really been trying to get things taken care of here. . .but I'm finding that owl post doesn't seem to be cutting it." 

Mr. Granger merely nodded. He was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "So I guess it seems you were by Ron's today." 

Hermione shot him a look. "How do you know about that?" 

"The hotline. Met Harry uptown earlier on." 

She sighed. "It's those stupid papers that he won't sign. I can't get it through his thick head to just write his name on them and then we can be done with this whole fiasco." 

"Well, Herm, I don't suppose the high point of Ron's day would be to sign his name to a divorce, you know," Mr. Granger said softly. 

Hermione sighed again. "Look, Dad, I know you really like Ron, he's like the son you never had, despite the fact that he's not a Muggle, but please can't you be interested in your daughter now?" 

He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing, which was just as well, because Mrs. Granger had just appeared back into the living room carrying a tea tray. Placing it onto the coffee table, she reached over to the end table by the sofa where Hermione was sitting, and withdrew a pair of boarding passes. 

Extending them to her daughter, Mrs. Granger said, "I really should return these to you, love. The London Underground tickets were a wonderful gesture, but I'm sorry that we just couldn't make it." 

"Mum, those were a _gift_," Hermione replied, handing them back. "For you to come visit me in London, to see how my career is going, to take _part_ in your daughter's life." 

John and Charlotte shared a glance, and then the latter turned back to Hermione. "Well, dear, there were plenty of times you could've come back to Hogsmeade to visit _us_, you know. The door swings both ways, love." 

Mr. Granger jumped in. "This is your kind of place to be, not ours. But we wanted to be with you while you lived here, so we obliged. And even though we're comfortable here now, it's still discouraging that you up and left us." 

They had trodden on a touchy subject for Hermione, which they realized as her face reddened. She did not reply to their words, but instead jabbed her hand inside of her of her robes, pulled out her ring, and slipped it on. "Well, look, Mother, Father. London has offered me a life that I never would have dreamed of if I stayed here all of my life. I'm happy there, I have a great career, and. . .I have a boyfriend. He loves me. And I love him." With that, she held up her left hand to show the glinting ruby on her finger. 

"My stars," Mrs. Granger murmured as she examined Hermione's engagement ring. Mr. Granger seemed to be at a loss for words completely. 

After a few more moments of this, Hermione mumbled wearily, "I'm going to bed," and started off for her old bedroom. 

*** 

**To Be Continued**


	3. Another Eventful Day

**Return To Hogsmeade**

**Chapter Three**

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****-dutchtulips- 

*** 

Back in she and Viktor's grand home of Aytos, Bulgaria, Portia Krum was relaxing in the breakfast nook, sitting over hot tea and brioches. Mrs. Krum was delicately sipping out of her china cup, reading from the Bulgarian wizard newspaper. 

" 'Born into one of the vealthiest vizard families in Britain, Herm-own-ninny Clarke is indeed a descendant of the Clarke pureblood vamily that founded the small all-vizard village of Hogsmeade. Her vather is a now-retired Minister of Magic and all that it implies. . .' " Her voice trailed off as she looked up at Rowena Edwards, a reporter from _Witch Weekly_. 

"Vhat have you found out?" Mrs. Krum promptly asked her. 

"Well, no Clarkes have been the Minister of Magic over in England since about a hundred or so years ago," she replied. 

The older woman sighed. ""Vhat about Hogvorts? Haff you checked Herm-own-ninny's school records?" 

"Yes. The name Clarke does not show up on the records until about fifty years ago, when the Clarke family that founded Hogsmeade packed up and moved to France," Rowena reported. 

Mrs. Krum slammed the newspaper to the tabletop. "Stars, vhat has happened to responsible journalism?" She looked back at Rowena. "Oh, you may go now." 

As the young reporter left, Viktor came clambering into the room, seating himself across from his mother. "Good morning." He reached for the silver teapot, pouring himself a cup of the steaming amber liquid. 

Portia turned her attention to her son. "Viktor, are you sure about this Herm-own-ninny? You don't even know her all that vell! Even though you haff dated her before, how do you know she may not be vhat she is seeming?" 

Viktor stared at his mother. "Mum, I know her vell enouff. She is my bride-to-be, for heavens sake." 

Mrs. Krum's shoulders dropped and she sighed. "You are reminding me so much uff your father. He had the vhole vorld in front of 'im! Could do anything he vanted! Even the impossible was not impossible to him! And then he vos villing to toss it all away for some gorgeous nothing like this Herm-own-ninny girl!" 

Viktor was beginning to get angry by this time. Pushing away his tea and getting up from the table, the Quidditch star snapped to Portia, "Vell, Mother, that is your problem to be vorking out. Not mine," and he swept out of the room. 

*** 

As it turned out, the next day was not going very well for Hermione either. After leaving her parents' house early that morning, she was marching up High Street on her way into uptown Hogsmeade, as she spoke rapidly into her magic comlink, which connected two wizards' conversations by the wizard wireless network. Currently she was arguing with Emma O'Sullivan, Head of the Dissolution of Matrimony office at the Ministry of Magic. 

"Yes, yes, I know. I understand. But I think I can get the papers out to your office by tomorrow, if I hurry, and then can you start processing the divorce?" 

Hermione listened for a moment, but obviously by her expression the response was not what she wanted to hear. "No, no, no, Miss O'Sullivan, I don't think you're quite getting me. I don't have three to seven months. I don't even have three to seven days! Look, I really need this, can't you just pull some strings or someth-" 

"Hermione, is that you?" 

Upon hearing this new voice, the curly-haired witch looked up, and then abruptly snapped off the comlink, swiftly ending her conversation. A round-faced young man was approaching her, and he looked particularly familiar. . . 

"Neville? Is that you?" She inquired, staring at him. 

He nodded eagerly. "Yeah!" 

Immediately Hermione threw her arms around her old classmate, giving him a friendly hug. "Oh, it's so wonderful to see you, Neville!" 

"You too!" He replied, embracing her gratefully in return. 

As they broke apart, Hermione asked, slipping her comlink into her handbag, "So how have you been these past few years?" 

"Great, really just fantastic," Neville smiled softly. 

She sort of nodded, and then said, as an afterthought, "What's happened to you, Neville? You seem so much different than the last time I saw you. . .you look a lot, well, _happier_." 

"Yeah," he nodded back, stuffing his hands in his robe pockets and saying, "I met a really nice girl," - this caused an involuntary smile from Hermione - "and back up in town I've got a great job, with Ron -" 

She couldn't help a sigh from escaping her just then, and Neville gave her confused look. "What? What'd I say? About Ron?" 

Hermione tucked a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear. "Yeah, yeah. . .I send the divorce papers, and Ron keeps sending them back. I don't think the concept has fully grasped that brain of his." 

Neville's face fell. "You're divorcing Ron? That's such a shame. You know, everyone really thought that you two -" 

"Yeah, I know what they said, Neville," she replied softly, interrupting him. "So I guess we've all got our little secrets, haven't we?" 

"I reckon we do," he said, smiling. 

Hermione returned it politely. "Well, I've got some things to do, I'll see you later on, okay?" 

"Oh, all right," he said in his usual manner, and then started the opposite way up the street. "See you around, Hermione. I'm so glad we bumped into each other." 

"Me too, Neville," she said, giving him a wave, and then turning back up the road towards the village. Spotting the Gringotts Accounting Office (the bank's main headquarters still in Diagon Alley), Hermione slung the strap of her handbag up higher on her shoulder and brushed quickly through the front door, the bell on the top jingling as she walked in. 

A red-haired young witch was sitting behind the front desk, clutching a peacock quill as it skated across the roll of parchment in front of her. Looking up as she heard the bell jangle, her eyes widened, but not before Hermione's already were. 

"Ginny?" 

"Hermione?" 

"My stars, I can't believe it," the curly-haired witch smiled at her sister-in-law. "This day is just one surprise after another." 

Ginny smiled back. "It's great to see you again, Hermione. I never would've thought you'd come back." 

"Yeah. . .well. . .I guess it was time I got some things sorted out, you know," she sighed. A moment of quiet passed between them, and Hermione sort of looked all around, waiting for the awkward moment to pass. But as she did so, she noticed something else. "Ginny!" She exclaimed, latching onto the redhead's wrist. 

"Oh, oh yes," Ginny replied, blushing, staring down at the gold band on her finger. "Three years ago Harry finally got the sense knocked into him and he asked me to marry him." 

Hermione suddenly beamed from ear to ear, and she reached across the desk to hug her. "Oh, congratulations! Even if it's somewhat belated," she added sheepishly. 

"Harry told me you and Ron had quite the reunion the other day, by the way," she said poignantly. 

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well. . .what do you expect. . ." 

Ginny nodded sympathetically. "It's all right, Hermione. I understand." 

"Thanks," she replied quietly. 

Another moment of silence passed, and then Ginny changed the subject. "So. . .were you wanting to get some gold out of your joint account?" 

"Joint account?" Hermione was confused. 

"Yeah, yours and Ron's. Don't you each still have some money in there?" Ginny inquired. 

". . .Yes," she replied slowly, a smile beginning to form across her face. "Yes, we do." 

*** 

Ron's trusty, classic racing broom, a gleaming Tsunami, sped beneath him as he perched atop it, moving swiftly through rural Hogsmeade, making his way towards his cozy old house. Although he was still a street away, Ron could see all of the lights on in his home, which struck him particularly curious. Finally reaching his front yard, the redhead clambered off his broom, swung it over his shoulder, and burst inside of the house. What he saw made his jaw drop. 

His entire house was spotless, not a speck of dust on the furniture or a grain of dirt in the carpet. There was a place for everything and everything was in its place, from knickknacks on the mantle to the throw pillows on the sofa. Crossing the room and entering the dining area, Ron's eyes rested on the table, which had been covered with a lace eyelet tablecloth and was adorned with a pair of candles in golden candleholders, and elaborate dishes and silverware arranged nicely and awaiting use. 

And then, through the kitchen door out came Hermione, wearing a silk white Muggle dress with lavender robes buttoned neatly over it. She smiled over at him, despite the fact Ron was giving her the death glare. "Home at last, I see!" 

"Bloody hell, 'Mione!" He exclaimed. "What in the name of Merlin have you done?" 

"Oh, well, heavens, Ron, what kind of wife would I be if I didn't upkeep our lovely little home?" She said sweetly. 

Ron ignored that, stomping into the kitchen and flinging open the door to the icebox. "What. . .did you do. . .with the butterbeer?" He demanded, his teeth clenched. 

"Oh. _That_." Hermione appeared next to him, reaching inside and pulling out a tall glass bottle of clear liquid. "Here you are. Gillywater. Much healthier for you, you know." 

Ron seemed to be too angry for words. He marched out of the kitchen and back into the immaculate living room. He started to reach towards the coffee table for something, but only noticed a bright pink candle burning atop it. "What have you done with my _Quidditch Weekly_s?" He demanded, grinding his teeth. "And this, what in the name of heavenly glory is _this_?" The redhead picked something else up off the table. "Doilies?! Where the hell did this rubbish come from?" 

Hermione appeared in the doorway, straightening the hem of her lilac robes. "Oh, well, our joint account, of course." 

Ron's eyes narrowed. "You took. . .my gold. . .to do. . .to buy. . .all of this. . .this _rubbish_. . ." 

Hermione sighed. "Ron. . ." She pulled the scrolls out of her robe pocket, and then, referring to the house, "Why do you make me do this? If you'd just sign the papers, I'll put your gold back into the vault, all right?" 

"Fine!" He snapped, snatching them from her grasp and fumbled for a quill. 

Hermione then took the opportunity to start right in. "I went down to the accounting office today, and Ginny says you're not working as an Auror anymore. So Ronald Weasley, where in the name of Merlin did you get all of that money?" She wanted to know, arms akimbo. "You'd better not be doing anything illegal!" 

"And if I am, what of it?" he replied. "That's really none of your business, now is it, Miss News Reporter? I don't ask you about your boyfriend, so don't you ask me about my private matters, got it?" 

She froze, staring at him. "Who - who told you?" 

Ron dropped his shoulders sardonically. " 'Mione, just because I didn't get the _greatest_ marks on my N.E.W.T.s, unlike some people, that doesn't make me stupid." Sitting down on the sofa, he laid the scrolls on the coffee table, unearthed a rather crumpled quill, and stared down at the parchment. Softly he mumbled to her, "Stars, no one meets their soul mate when they're eleven years old, do they?" 

Hermione turned around, staring at him. He glanced back up at her, and she was surprised to see a small smile etched on Ron's face. "I mean, what's the fun in that, right?" 

"I, er. . ." she stammered, searching for words. As he continued to looked over the documents, Hermione looked around the living room, almost wistfully. On the mantle, she noticed, was a single purple rose sitting inside of a small glass vase, a Valentine's day gift she had given him back in seventh year at Hogwarts. "Wow," she murmured. "I can't believe you kept that." She paused. "Most witches and wizards forget that purple roses can stay alive like that for years." 

Ron looked back up, rolling the quill between his fingers. "Yeah. . .," he said softly, and then glanced over at the clock on the wall. Jumping up, he said, "Well, stars, Hermione, look at that. I guess I'm going to have to sign these things some other time, or I'll be late for my big date!" 

"Date?" She echoed, brow furrowing. "What are you talking about? Would you just write your name on the stupid lines? It's not that hard, you know!" 

"Oh, hell, Hermione," Ron replied, "Some of that legal rubbish I can't even pronounce! Some other time, okay?" He paused at the front door before going out. "How much is this going to set you back, anyhow?" 

"More than you'll make in a month!" She exclaimed, tousling her hair. "Now just sign the damn papers!" 

He shook his head, almost half-comically. "No, no thanks." And the redhead let the door swing shut behind him as Hermione screamed in frustration after him. 

*** 

**To Be Continued**


	4. At the Three Broomsticks

**Return To Hogsmeade**

**Chapter Four**

****

****-dutchtulips- 

*** 

Hermione, adjusting the cuffs of her robes, slowly hiked up the street in the direction of the Three Broomsticks, a tavern that the curly-haired witch knew was chiseled into her mind forever, although it was a place she never thought she'd be visiting again. But nonetheless she was there at the front door, taking a deep breath and swinging it open, stepping inside the dim bar. 

A band called the Dragons Five were playing music in the corner, as witches and wizards of all kinds were circled around tables and lined up at the bar. A chatter of conversation enveloped the packed room, making even Hermione feel at home again. Slowly she approached the bar to get herself a drink, but was intercepted by a familiar face. 

"Hermione! My favorite daughter-in-law!" 

She turned around quickly, seeing Molly Weasley pouncing upon her, sweeping Hermione up into a motherly hug. "Well, soon to be ex-daughter-in-law, Molly," she replied, holding up her hand to show her engagement ring. "I've got a new guy. He's a professional Quidditch player." 

"Three cheers from the crowd for him, then!" Mrs. Weasley replied cheerfully. She turned towards the bartender. "You make sure you get this little lady anything she wants, all right?" Hugging Hermione once more, she lastly said, before slipping back into the crowd, "You have a good time tonight, love." 

"Thanks, I will." Hermione sighed and turned to the bartender and ordered a sweet vermouth. While she was waiting, a new voice called out to her. 

"Hermione, is that you?" 

She turned around in a flash, bringing Angelina Johnson into view. A smile lit up her face. "Angelina! Is that you?" 

"Yeah, it's me, all right! Haven't seen you in ages!" She swept her old fellow Gryffindor into a hug. "What've you been up to nowadays?" 

"I'm a reporter for the _Daily Prophet_," Hermione answered. "Well, what about you? Still chasing that Quidditch career, so to speak?" She laughed. 

"Oh, not too much lately, though Fred's been wanting me to try out for Britain's team again. I told him I still didn't believe they'd think I was good enough, but -" 

"Fred? Weasley? You mean the two of you are married now?" She exclaimed. 

Angelina nodded. "Going on four years now. Not to mention we've got a daughter now. Her name's Chloe." 

Hermione embraced her friend again. "How wonderful! You've really done well for yourself, Angelina. It's so great to have seen you again." Just then, she received her drink. 

"You as well, Hermione," Angelina smiled as the curly-haired witch grabbed her goblet of vermouth. 

Toting it with her through the tavern, after she'd said goodbye to Angelina, Hermione spotted Ron in the corner opposite of the band, and made her way towards him. As she got closer, she noticed he was accompanied by another woman. 

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" She said, approaching the two of them. 

"Hermione, what are you doing?" Ron said, rolling his eyes. 

She ignored him. Turning to the woman, she said, "Well, I don't believe I've had the pleasure. Who might you be?" 

"Natalie. Natalie McDonald," she introduced herself. "And you. . .?" 

"Oh, I'm Ron's sassy, big-city snob news reporter wife whom he refuses to divorce even though I'm engaged to be married to another man," Hermione replied neatly, holding out her hand to display the ruby engagement ring. 

"Wow, Ronnie, look at the size of that rock!" She said, gripping Hermione's wrist and swiveling it his direction so that he could see. 

Ron paid it no heed. To Natalie, he said, "Why don't you go get us some drinks?" 

"Okay!" She said brightly before ambling off in a rush. Once she had gone, Ron walked over to the closest table, where Harry and Neville were already seated, clutching bottles of butterbeer with a couple of sets of Gobstones laying in the middle. Hermione was right on his heels and, as he sat down, she placed her goblet of vermouth in front of, obstructing his reach for the Gobstones. 

"Why do you make me be mean to you?" She asked smartly. "You think I like doing that?" 

He turned to look at her. "Yeah, yeah, I really think you do. What d'you call turning my house upside-down and stealing all of my money out my vault? You live to drive me out of my mind!" 

"Well, it's quite simple. If you'd just send back the divorce papers with your name _on_ them, then you wouldn't have to be tripping all over me right now!" Hermione snapped. "But if you want to play hardball, I'm game!" 

Ron waved her off dismissedly. "Whatever, 'Mione. You just do whatever you want." 

Suddenly two new voices jumped into the conversation. "Oi, Fred! Not hungry, are you?" 

"Haven't had a single Canary Cream all day, George! What 'bout you?" 

Hermione felt her stomach jumped up as she looked up and realized the voices belonged to Fred and George, and now the two twins were circling her like a pair of vultures. "Oh, no, no, no!" She exclaimed, trying to get away, but it was too late. Fred and George both smashed into her on either size, and were now squeezing her small frame between them. 

At last she broke away, almost shouting, "No! Times have changed! No more 'Hermione Sandwich', guys, got it?" 

They slowly backed off. "Okay, okay! Cripes," George said, surprised at her outburst. 

"We won't do it anymore, then," Fred put in, and then they both joined the others at the table. 

Harry couldn't help it; he turned to look over at Hermione, saying, "Stars, Hermione, who put the Filibuster down your knickers?" 

She said nothing as everyone else at the table started to laugh at Harry's retort. The raven-haired wizard got up from his chair and led Hermione over, referring her to a chair on the outskirts of the table. "Now, Herm, you just sit there and watch as I show Ron how to lose at Gobstones." 

Hermione, however, didn't sit. "Well, see, that's just the thing. I'm not really a watch and see kind of witch, am I, Ron?" 

The redhead peered over at her, wondering what she was getting at. 

*** 

Sometime later, a long line of empty shot glasses, which had previously been filled with rum, were sitting across the table, where now almost everyone in the Three Broomsticks was crowded around, watching Ron, Harry, Fred, George, Neville, and Hermione playing Gobstones. Already far into what seemed like the millionth game that night. 

Hermione, currently, was leaning drunkenly against Neville. "Now," she advised him, a slight slur in her words, "Don't blow this one." 

He sent his stone skittering towards the others, cracking into a few of them and giving he and Hermione some points. "Doing just fine, here, Hermione," he replied simply. 

Meanwhile George and Ron were gathered on the other side of the table, staring down at the game. "Come on, Little Brother, we need to get back into the game! Just think of the Quidditch final back when you were in seventh year, catching that Quaffle and sending it soaring through the Slytherin goal post at twenty feet away. . ." He grinned. 

"Oh, yeah," Ron grinned as well, bending forward to study the Gobstones. 

"You remember, too, Hermione?" George asked. 

She put on a stick smile. "Oh, how could I forget? That was the night Ron got me pregnant." 

The redhead looked up at her, traces of that fated death glare back on his face. "Oh, why don't you just announce that to the whole world, why don't you?" He said indignantly. 

"Oh, hell," She snapped back. "It's not like anyone can keep a secret around here, anyways. Well, except maybe Neville, here." 

He looked over at her with his big, round eyes. "Me? What did _I_ do?" 

"Oh, nothing," Hermione said, getting woozily up from her chair. "But then again, you never did anything. You never could! You were about the slowest student at Hogwarts! Never could set a cauldron up straight, for what it was worth! Heaven forbid I ever rescued you from Snape all of those times in Potions class!" 

Neville reddened, in disbelief at what ridicule Hermione was giving him - a fact he confirmed by opening and then closing his mouth silently, resembling a goldfish. Getting up from his chair, Neville said quickly, "Well, I think I've had just about enough fun for tonight. See you all later." With that, he'd disappeared out the front door of the Three Broomsticks. 

"Oh, come on!" She called after him, still teetering from the rum. "I was just kidding around!" when he didn't return - to nobody's surprise - Hermione shrugged, and turned to Mrs. Weasley, who has suddenly appeared. "Molly! How 'bout another round of rum for me and the boys!" 

"Oh, love, I think you've had about enough," she replied sympathetically. 

"Yeah, yeah, you're absolutely right," Hermione told her wearily. "I have. I have had enough." She trod on the hem of her robes, and then nearly fell. 

Abruptly Ron was at her side, gripping her arm just above the elbow. Leading her out the front door, he mumbled, "Say good-night, 'Mione." 

After they were outside, the redhead jerked her down the steps, saying angrily, "What gives you the right to treat them like a load of rubbish, like you're better than they are?!" 

Hermione yanked herself away from him. "I _am_ better than they are! I've made something of myself, I'm going places! Which is more than I can say for anyone else in this stupid town!" 

Before Ron could reply, the tavern door banged again and Ginny appeared, holding out Hermione's handbag to her. The curly-haired witch staggered towards her sister-in-law, grabbed her bag, and started out into the street. She hadn't gotten very far before Ron grabbed onto her again, saying as he pulled her back up the steps, "No way am I letting you out alone to possibly kill yourself! We're getting some Floo and I'm taking you home." 

Upon reaching the Three Broomsticks' door, they met up with Natalie, who'd just brushed outside to see where her date had gotten to. 

Looking up at him as he reached for the doorknob, Natalie said softly to Ron, "So I guess that means the date's over, huh?" 

"Yeah," he replied. "Sorry 'bout all of this." 

Before Natalie could respond, however, Hermione took the opportunity to lean over and throw up. 

*** 

Not long later, the fire in Mr. and Mrs. Granger's living room roared an emerald green, and few moments later Ron came stepping out of the fireplace, carrying a dead-asleep Hermione in his arms. She was curled up fetally against the redhead, and slowly he started through the house and down the hallway to Hermione's old bedroom to deposit her there, while John and Charlotte merely stood and stared. 

*** 

The next thing Hermione knew, it was morning and she was back in her bedroom, her face pressed against the star-pattern bedspread. Rolling over, she felt as if the very life had been drained out of her, but didn't take the time to process it as her face met crisp sheets of parchment that had been laying against her pillow. Grabbing them, she sat up, her eyes resting on the signature at the bottom of one of the pages. 

_Ron Weasley._

Still extremely drowsy, Hermione slowly lifted her tired body from the bed, wobbling slightly as she stood up. Laying the scrolls on her desk, she shuffled herself out of her bedroom and down the hallway to the kitchen. Opening the cabinet, she took out a glass and filled it with water from the sink, and gulped it down. As she did so, from outside the window, she saw a large throng of witches and wizards trekking down the street, all wearing various Quidditch robes and rosettes of all different colors. 

"Stars, Mum, what's going on out there?" Hermione asked Mrs. Granger, who was seated in the living room mending a seam on an old quilt. 

"Heavenly glory, love, don't you remember? Today's the annual Hogsmeade Quidditch Festival," she replied, not taking her eyes away from her work. 

"Oh, oh yeah," she murmured, refilling her glass as she continued to stare out the window, in which a pack of leprechaun came bustling down the road next, tumbling all over each other. Hermione rolled her eyes amusedly, despite her hangover. "I swear, Mum, not counting you and Dad, I'd say Muggles would practically need a passport to be visiting this place." 

*** 

Later that afternoon, after Hermione had freshened up and changed clothes, she left her parents' home and started her long walk up the street. Crossing the next block, she quickened her pace, making her way to the next street after that until, at last, she found herself back in a familiar neighborhood. Trekking up to the end of the street, where Ron's grand old cottage sat on the hill, she spotted him right away, sitting on the front porch and polishing his Tsunami. 

Gizmo was stretched out on the front step like he had been the last time Hermione had been by. Leaning over, she gave the furry cat an affectionate pat on the head, and then proceeded towards Ron, walking quietly across the wooden floor and where he was perched on a chair with his broomstick. 

"I, uh, I put the gold back into your vault," she told him. "It's all there. Thought you might want to know." 

"Yeah, thanks," he replied. There was a long pause between them, with Hermione merely watching him polish the Tsunami, before he spoke up again. " 'Mione. . .I signed your papers." 

Hermione pulled up a chair and sat across from him. "Look, Ron, I - I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to hurt anyone. And I just want you to know how sorry I am about the other night." 

At last he looked up, giving her a smile. "Yeah, well, thanks. And thanks for what you've done with the house. Should help it sell better." 

Her brow furrowed. "You're moving?" 

"Yeah," Ron said. "I spend a lot of my time all the way across town, so I thought maybe trying to get a place over that way, you know." 

Hermione nodded. "Oh?" 

"Yeah, you know. . .work, and all," He stammered, stepping out into the yard and mounting his broom. "Hey, er, I - I want to show you something." 

She also got up, replacing the chair. Following him out into the grass, she said sheepishly, "I, um, I can't." 

Ron half-smiled. "Can't? Or won't?" 

"Well. . .sort of both," she admitted, adjusting the shoulder strap on her knapsack. 

The redhead shook his head woefully. "That girl back at Hogwarts that I knew used to be fearless." 

Hermione sighed. "That girl at Hogwarts didn't have a life." 

"Shame. She would've killed you if she heard you say that," Ron grinned. 

"I reckon so." There was a long pause between them again. "Well, I guess I'm. . .going to go. Just, er, thank you, Ron." 

He looked back at her once more, simultaneously shrugging a stray lock of his red hair from his eyes. "You take care of yourself, okay?" 

"I will," she replied, watching as Ron and his Tsunami sped off down the street. 

*** 

**To Be Continued**


	5. The Festival

**AN ~ **Thanks for all your reviews, so far, guys! I really appreciate it. This chapter I want to dedicate to Jen, a.k.a., sunshyndaises :-) This is your graveyard scene, chica! (P.S. I like the new things you've done on your "The Knight and His Queen" webpage. Where did you get all of those COS captures?) 

Oh, and for those of you who read the R/Hr fic I uploaded the other day, "Back For Good", you've heard me mention this already, but - did everyone catch Oprah last Tuesday, featuring the Ace Gang? I still can't get over it. Rupert is just so adorable!! well, anyways, enjoy the chapter ;-) 

*** 

**Return To Hogsmeade**

**Chapter Five**

****

****-dutchtulips- 

*** 

Carefully unrolling the divorce papers and sliding them inside an envelope, Hermione walked over to the long line of owls sitting on their wide perches at the Hogsmeade Post Office, reading each sign as she attempted to select the right owl for the job. At she did, attaching the envelope to the legs of an eagle owl, Hermione spotted the postmaster slipping out of the side door. 

"Um, excuse me? Can you tell me where Neville Longbottom lives?" She asked him nicely. 

"Twenty-two Lancelot," the elderly man replied simply. "But on Fridays he visits his uncle at the old Clarke Mansion. His uncle owns it and lives there now." 

"Oh, okay, thank you," Hermione smiled, and then rushed hurriedly out of the post office. 

*** 

Clarke Mansion, where the first founders of Hogsmeade lived, was indeed a sight to see. With its elegant Monticello-style windows and large white pillars in the front, there couldn't have been a lovelier looking house anywhere. Hermione slowly mounted the front steps, tapping sharply on the door. Almost immediately, it snapped open. 

"How is I helping you, miss?" A tiny, falsetto voice squeaked. 

She looked down at the tiny house-elf, still half-annoyed deep down that S.P.E.W. hadn't accomplished anything near what she had wanted it to. Nevertheless, Hermione made an effort to act normally with the house-elf. "Yes, I was wondering if I might find Neville around here somewhere?" 

"Oh, yes, he is being out with his uncle in the backyard! I is showing you, miss!" The house-elf replied cheerily, tugging Hermione's hand and pulling her inside. 

After leading her through the house and showing her to the back doors, the house-elf quickly bowed and, with a _pop_, disappeared. Hermione hesitantly turned to the French doors and pushed them open, which brought a magnificent plantation of a backyard into view. Stepping out into the lush green grass and peering upwards, she saw three gigantic golden hoops, and also two figures on broomsticks hovering near them. 

"Neville?" She called out. 

From above, a large red ball, the Quaffle no doubt, came tumbling through the air and straight at Hermione. "Hermione! Watch out!" He yelled out to her. 

Seeing the ball hurtling towards her, she yelped and hopped out of the way, just as it thunked to the ground and bounced into the bushes. A moment later, Neville appeared next to her, holding the broomstick. 

"I wasn't exactly aiming for you - you just startled me," he told her. "But if it had hit you I'm not fully sure that I'd come visit you in the hospital." 

Hermione sort of dropped her shoulders, saying softly, "I suppose I wouldn't blame you." Glancing back up at the hoops, and then back at Neville, she remarked, "I can't believe how you've changed. You're so much more coordinated now." 

"Well, I reckon it's easy to forget people can do that," he replied shortly. 

She looked woefully at him. "Neville. . .I'm - I'm really, very sorry about all of those terrible things I said, practically accusing you of being a Squib and all. I - I guess I thought that if I had everyone laughing at someone else, they'd forget to laugh at me." 

Neville gave her a sympathetic look. "Yeah. . ." He paused. "But, just so you know. . .Ron's not the only one you ran out on back then. You ran out on all of us." 

"Hey, Neville! You gonna grab the Quaffle or stand there flapping your gums all day long?" 

He glanced upwards at his uncle, shouting, "Yeah, I'll be there in a minute, Uncle Louis!" Turning back to Hermione, Neville said, "Well, I'd better be off before gets himself a concussion." He smiled. 

"Yeah, I'll see you later on, Neville." She waved as he got back on his broom again, and then she turned and went back through the house. 

Hermione had just walked through the front door of the mansion and closed it, when she heard a continuous clicking noise and looked up to see a witch with lots of curly dark hair holding a camera and aiming it directly at the house and at Hermione. 

Immediately her nerves went all apart, and nervously approaching the woman, said, "Can I help you?" 

"Oh, yes, of course. Rowena Edwards." She held out her hand to shake that of Hermione's. "_Witch Weekly_ reporter. I'm here for an article about you and your family. Tell me, what was it like growing up here?" 

"Like - like a fantasy," Hermione stammered. 

"Then you wouldn't mind if I came inside and talked to your parents, had a look round the house?" Rowena asked. 

"Well, you could, but. . ." She searched for an excuse. "They're not home right now." 

"Oh, well, that's just fine. I can come back later." 

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, grabbing Rowena's arm and pulling her up the front steps. "All right, but just one quick look!" 

Mounting the stoop and swinging open the old-fashioned Windsor door, the curly-haired witch quickly slammed it closed again, merely giving Rowena only a few seconds' view. "There you are, home sweet home." 

But being persistent as she was, Rowena went straight through as Hermione attempted to shut the door, saying, "Stars, look at that ash and teak staircase. I'll bet you slid down those banisters a time or two, huh?" 

"Oh, oh, yes, all of time," Hermione assured her, pulling the _Witch Weekly_ reporter right along, and into the front corridor. "Right here, we have the kitchen. . ." Peering through the circular window in the door, she saw the house-elf that greeted her at the front door along with a few others, toting a large tea tray underneath them. " - But who hasn't seen one of those?" 

Hermione led Rowena right along, right to the back of the house where the French doors were propped open now. Hearing a noise from behind her, the curly-haired witch turned and saw the house-elves and tray scurrying straight at them, and so she quickly grabbed Rowena and pushed into the nearest room, which happened to be the broom closet. 

"Now, er, this was my favorite place," she whispered. "My - my great-great-great grandfather built a secret passage through our house, leading from the master bedroom down to here. The tunnel was where my ancestors hid out during the old Death Eater night raids." 

"Why are we whispering?" Rowena inquired. 

"Er. . .it's haunted. Ghosts of old Quidditch players from my great-grandfather's team. They hid out with my relatives all through here," Hermione answered quickly, peering out through a crack in the door and, seeing no one, then said, "Okay, come on." 

She and the _Witch Weekly_ reporter had just clambered out of the closet when Neville's uncle Louis came ambling down the back staircase, pulling at the collar of his faded old Quidditch robes as he dragged his broom with him out through the back doors, mumbling to himself. "Cripes, no wonder we lost that damned cup back in 'seventy-three." 

Rowena gave Hermione a strange glance as Uncle Louis disappeared out into the backyard. "Was, er, was that one of them?" 

Before she could answer, Neville suddenly appeared out of the kitchen door, saying, "Hermione? What're you still doing here?" 

"Oh! Uh, er, Neville, this is, um. . .this is Rowena Edwards, from _Witch Weekly, _she's doing, er, an article on the, uh, the. . ._family_. . ." She emphasized, hoping Neville would understand. 

As a smile suddenly appeared on his face, she breathed an inward sigh of relief, knowing that Neville had gotten the point. He held out his hand to Rowena, saying, "Well, I do believe Hermione here has forgotten her manners. I'm Neville. . .her cousin." 

Minutes later, he was walking alongside Hermione, leading Rowena up the front staircase. "Well, the Clarke mansion, as you might know, has held a long history of professional Quidditch players," he lectured. "Not just from England, but many of the Clarkes have been members of both Ireland and Scotland's national teams. So, in honor of such a great Quidditch history right here in Hogsmeade, we have a big celebration, a festival, every year uptown. The entire of High Street all night long is just lit up with activity." 

At that point they reached the balcony, and Neville jarred the doors open, allowing the three of them step outside onto the elegant old structure. They still had to look up, however, to see the gold scoring hoops overhead, and just as they did so, a large, black, and rambunctious ball - a Bludger, no question - smacked hard into the Monticello balcony balustrade, creating an earsplitting racket. Hermione and Neville barely flinched, but Rowena fearfully ducked behind the two of them, yelping, "What in the name of Merlin was _that_?" 

"Oh, just, er. . .pre-party party, you know," Neville replied casually, waving up at his uncle. "Nice shot, there, Uncle Louis!" He called at him. "Hey, why don't you come down here for a moment and have a word with Rowena, here! She's a reporter for _Witch Weekly_!" 

"Who?" The older man shouted back. 

Neville cupped his hands around his mouth to project his voice. "Rowena Edwards!" 

"Never heard of her!" Uncle Louis replied, putting a burst of speed on his broomstick and disappearing. Neville and Hermione laughed, but Rowena merely looked on, confused. 

*** 

The Clarke Mansion kitchen fireplace's flames roared high, turning an emerald green as Rowena walked over the hearth and into the fire, disappearing as it turned back to yellow and orange once more, with the house-elves scurrying around, brushing up the loose ashes. Neville, whom with Hermione had stood nearby as Rowena left, turned her with a funny smile on his face, saying, "Why you big fat liar!" 

She turned to him, saw him laugh, and then chased after him through the back doors, shouting after him and laughing herself at the same time. 

*** 

A large colorful banner stretched across High Street, uptown Hogsmeade, proudly displaying, with the words flashing in all different Quidditch team colors - _WELCOME TO THE ANNUAL HOGSMEADE QUIDDITCH FESTIVAL! COME OUT AND SUPPORT YOUR FAVORITE TEAM, AND DON'T FORGET TO POP OPEN A TASTY BUTTERBEER WHILE YOU'RE AT IT - PREFERRED DRINK OF THE BRITISH NATIONAL QUIDDITCH TEAM!_

Hermione smiled up at it as she remembered the old Quidditch festivals of the past, the ones she'd shared with all of her old friends here in Hogsmeade as they'd celebrated all night long, even after they'd gotten home. But what had been best of all, she remembered, was having Ron next to her the whole night, as they drank butterbeers and danced until the sun came up. 

High Street was already crowded, although it was barely dusk. The Weird Sisters were perched atop the stage at the end of the street, jamming on their instruments as the vast throng of witches and wizards circled the stage, dancing to the lively music. On the sidewalks, various food and drink stalls were set up, along with many stands selling various memorabilia of all different Quidditch teams. Tables were lined up as well, many people enjoying all sorts of candies and foods. The Quidditch festival was a widely celebrated event, and people not even from Hogsmeade came and spent all day and night at the party. 

Hermione, stopping at a stall to buy a cool bottle of pumpkin juice and some Honeydukes chocolate. Unwrapping the bar and taking a bite out of it, the curly-haired witch noticed Ginny sitting with Angelina over at a nearby table. Angelina was toting her young baby daughter, Chloe, with her. 

They spotted her but hesitated, saying nothing. Slowly Hermione approached them, standing awkwardly next to the table. As Ginny glanced up at her, she suddenly burst out with, "Ginny, Angelina, I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about that other night -" 

Ginny waved it off dismissedly, smiling softly. "Oh, forget it, Herm. I understand." 

"Yeah, me as well, Hermione," Angelina put in, also giving her a friendly smile. She paused for a moment, and then said, "Oh, stars, I've got to run and get Chloe's bottle. See you later on," and slipped off. 

The sun was making its smooth settle to the west, sending bands of pink and gold across the purpling sky. As Hermione watched it slide underneath the horizon, Ginny slowly got up from her chair and joined her. After a moment of silence, the redhead said softly, "You know, he went up there." 

Hermione turned sharply towards her. "Who? Ron?" 

"Yeah, he doesn't know that I know, though. Harry accidentally let it slip once," Ginny replied. 

"Ron came back to London? When?" She exclaimed. 

"Oh, about two years after you'd left. Said he'd forgotten about what a grand place it was, and he knew he needed more than an apology to win you back," she explained. "He needed to conquer the world. He's been trying ever since." 

Slowly it dawned on Hermione. "So that's why he kept sending the papers back!" 

"Yeah. He still cares for you a lot, you know," Ginny said softly. She was quiet for a minute or two, and then said, "It's funny how things don't turn out sometimes." 

But Hermione smiled. "It's funny how they do." 

*** 

Nighttime. The Weird Sisters had kicked into high gear, and now most witches and wizards had abandoned their tables and were out in the street, enthusiastically dancing to the loud music. Hermione, however, was still sitting at the same table as earlier, with not only Ginny and Angelina but now Harry, Fred, and George had joined them, all gathered around and sipping on bottles of butterbeer. 

Not too much later, after the Weird Sisters had taken a break between sets, Hermione saw Ron approaching them, accompanied by Neville. Ron was, to nobody's surprise, wearing a set of Chudley Cannon Quidditch robes and finishing off a Chocolate Frog. "So how's everyone enjoying the party?" 

No one answered in words; Harry, Fred, and George cheered appreciatively. Ron and Neville lowered themselves into seats as Harry slid a bottle of butterbeer each over to them. As he did so, Hermione leaned forward to pick up the vase sitting in the center of the table, which was filled with purple roses. She lifted it to stare at the bottom, looking for a company mark. 

"Er, Herm, what're you doing?" Ginny asked. 

"I was looking to see who grows these. I was hoping we could get purple roses for the wedding," Hermione replied. 

"Well, Ron should be able to tell you where -" Harry started to say, but was cut off by Ron. 

"Why would I be the one to know that?" The redhead inquired. 

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you -" Angelina started in, but Fred bumped her and she stopped talking. 

Hermione's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Am I missing something here?" 

Before anyone could respond, however, the Weird Sisters, were now back from their break and on stage again. They struck up a new tune, filling the air with music once more. A cheering from the crowd burst out, and everyone was back in the street, dancing excitedly with their partners. 

At that moment, Harry jumped up from the table, grabbed Ginny's hand, and said, "Let's all cut a rug, shall we?" With that, he pulled a beaming Ginny into the throng of dancing witches and wizards and he began dancing exuberantly with her. 

Ron stepped over to Angelina, holding out his hand and saying, "Why, I do believe there's a trick or two I haven't missed. Would you mind sharing the pleasure?" 

She smiled, taking his hand. "Over my dear Two Left-footed husband? Why, I would be glad to." 

As Ron and Angelina started to cut a wide path across the street, Fred appeared next to Hermione, saying, "I'm not as bad a dancer as she says. Angelina just can't keep time, you know." 

She looked over at him, grinning. "Well, you're just going to have to prove that to me." The curly-haired witch grabbed onto Fred's hands, and pulled him out into the crowd. 

Ron looked over as he saw Hermione dancing with his brother, and then called out jubilantly, "All right there, you two?" 

Angelina looked up as well, noticing Fred. To Hermione, she laughed, "Has he stepped on your foot yet?" 

"No, actually! He's not so bad on his feet!" She called back. 

Angelina grinned. "You don't say! Let me at him, then!" She exclaimed, grabbing onto her husband, leaving Hermione and Ron alone together. The redhead smiled and held his hand out to her, offering to dance, but she stepped back slightly, away from his offer. 

"Maybe we could just talk," she suggested over the noise, but Ron's shoulders merely slumped and slipped off into the crowd. 

*** 

A few hours later, the festival was beginning to calm down a little, and the Weird Sisters had began to play a few ballads now. Hermione, though, feeling a little tired from all of the commotion, slipped off for a little peace and quiet. As she walked further up High Street, a sign hanging on a gate, set back a little from the road, caught her eye. It said, _Pet Cemetery._

Taking a deep breath of fresh air into her lungs, she stepped through the gate and walked around the small grave markers until she found the one she was looking for. Leaning over the little plot, she quickly read the marker. The words on it were, _Crookshanks. Beloved pet and cat. May he rest in peace. _

"Hey there, boy," Hermione said softly. "Sorry I didn't come sooner. I would've if I had known you were sick." She paused. "No, actually. . .that's not completely true. I've been so selfish lately, but I don't suppose pets know anything about that, do they?" She got down on her knees then. "I remember how you never left my side. You were always such a loyal cat. And I remember how you'd crawl up into my lap back in the dormitory when I was studying, you'd purr and make me smile when I really didn't feel like it. And then -" She started to sob. "- Then I just left you. You probably laid there for days wondering what you'd done wrong." 

"He was a great cat, wasn't he?" 

Hurriedly Hermione got to her feet and turned round, seeing Ron slowly coming towards her. She noticed a nearby bench and dropped down onto it, wiping her eyes as he joined her. "Why does everything have to be so complicated?" 

"What?" He wanted to know. 

"Life," she replied, sighing. "I mean, I'm happy in London, Ron. But then - then I come down here, and Hogsmeade fits, too." 

He looked over at her. "Well, since when does it have to be one or the other?" 

"I don't know," Hermione admitted, tucked a stray lock of her nutmeg hair behind her ear. 

A silence overtook them for a moment, and then Ron brushed her gently. "Hey, look over there." He pointed. 

"What?" She asked, turning to look, and then saw something flickering in the bushes bordering the graveyard. Smiling, Hermione said, "Fairy lights. Only you." 

Slowly Ron rose from the bench, and turned around to look at her. "You know, sometimes I like to go out to Allegheny Hill, that one across the village, you know, and where all the plants and things grow. . .watch as the midnight glories bloom in the moonlight. . .see the purple roses that have grown there for decades, you know. It's amazing." 

"Yeah. . ." Hermione murmured. "I had a dream about it the other night." 

The redhead was quiet again for a moment, and then knelt on the grass in front of her, catching her eye. " 'Mione. . .do you ever wonder what would've happened if we hadn't gotten pregnant?" 

She sighed wearily, inwardly, "Oh, Ron. . ." 

"No, wait. Just let me say this while I can," he replied, resting his hand atop hers. "I thought that that baby would be an adventure. But then, I realized it would be your only adventure." Pause. "I guess nature has a way of working these things out." 

Hermione glanced back at him. "I was so ashamed," she whispered. "Suddenly I just needed a new life." 

Ron smiled. "Well, you've done really well for yourself. I, er, I only wished I'd gotten that chance to dance with you at our wedding." 

She smiled back, a small laugh escaping her throat. "Yeah. . ." 

"But I'm sure this one will be better for you." 

They slowly rose together, and Hermione's eyes remained locked into his blue ones. "Quit being so nice," she whispered, and then couldn't help it; she reached up and gave him a long, warm kiss. 

She hadn't meant for it to carry on as it soon did, and after they'd remained kissing for several minutes, Ron abruptly broke away. Both he and Hermione looked at each other for a minute or two, engulfed in quiet. "You've - no. You've got to get going." 

She peered at him for a moment, and then sighed, starting up through the graveyard and the gate, leaving Ron by himself. 

*** 

**To Be Continued**


	6. Viktor Drops In

**Return To Hogsmeade**

**Chapter Six**

****

****-dutchtulips- 

*** 

The next morning, Hermione was hastily bustling about her bedroom, her trunk opened at the foot of the bed as she was tossing clothes into it, not even bothering to fold most of them. Her mother was talking to her, but Hermione wasn't really in the mood to listen as she busily packed. 

"It's just, I saw the way he was looking at you at the festival the other night. . ." Mrs. Granger was saying, "and I -" 

"You know what, just clam up about it, Mum!" She exclaimed. "I can't do anything about the way Ron feels about me, all right? Just forget it!" 

"That's what I'm telling you!" Charlotte watched her daughter pace up and down the bedroom floor. "That boy is quicksand! You hurry and get yourself back to London, all right?" 

Hermione slammed the trunk lid shut and turned to look at Mrs. Granger. "Mum, what exactly is it that you want from me?" 

She sighed, saying softly. "Love, I just want you to be happy. London and this new boy of yours seems to make you happy. So, please. I only want what's best for you. That's all I've ever wanted, okay?" 

"I know," Hermione replied, leaning forward to embrace her mother. "I'll see you in London, okay? You'll love being back there. I promise." Letting go, she walked over to her trunk and pulled out her wand to bewitch it to levitate. 

"Hold on, though," Mrs. Granger said, "Don't forget to say goodbye to your father." 

She repocketed her wand and looked back up at her mother. "Where is he?" 

Charlotte wearily ran a hand through her hair. "Oh, you know, the boys, Fred and George, thought it would be a good show if they took him out to the village Quidditch pitch. . .and you know your dad, he's the reverse of Ron's father -" 

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "No need to say anymore, Mum." Quickly she pulled on her cloak and started out the front door of the house. 

*** 

Meanwhile, Ron was clambering up the rural Hogsmeade streets on his way towards Clarke mansion, and as soon as he'd gotten the grand white building in sight, immediately a vast purple bus burst from nowhere and settled itself right in front of the manor. The redhead quickened his pace, eager to see what the brouhaha was all about. Just as he'd reached the bus doors, another figure - tall, lean, and dark-haired - stepped off and immediately started up the front steps of the house. 

Quickly Ron caught up with him, calling out, "You here to see Uncle Louis?" 

As the person turned around, Ron's eyes grew twice their normal size as he realized who it was. Viktor's brow furrowed, and he questioned, puzzled, "Uncle?" 

"That's just what we call him around here," he explained. 

"Ah, I understand. But, ah, no, I'm here to see my bride-to-be, Herm-own-ninny." Viktor held out his hand. "I'm Viktor Krum. Very nice to meet you." 

_Stars, _Ron thought, rolling his eyes. _The bloke doesn't even remember me. _But nevertheless, the redhead smiled and shook Viktor's hand, playing along with the whole thing. "Just call me Ron. Er, who did you say you were here to see?" 

"Herm-own-ninny. Does she not live here?" 

"Granger?" 

"No, ah, Clarke. Do you know uff her? She is a _Daily Prophet_ reporter in London," Viktor replied. 

Slowly Ron began to understand and, nodding his head, "Oh, right, well, my brothers went out to the old Quidditch field with him, she might have gone along. It's on my way, I'll walk you there if you would like." 

"Vhat vould be nice, thank you," Viktor said politely, and the two of them retreated back down the steps and up the road towards High Street. As the walked, he looked over at Ron and asked, "Ah, who might this Herm-own-ninny Granger be?" 

"Oh, she's the cat's pajamas, that's who she is," Ron smiled. "Or at least, almost _turned herself _into a cat once." 

"Really?" Viktor asked, interested. 

"Yeah, er, back in school, she and her two friends were looking to get someone in trouble, so they brewed up some Polyjuice Potion to try and catch him red-handed. They all three got hairs from the friends of this bloke, and drank the stuff down," Ron explained. 

"Ah, you are surely kidding," the dark-haired wizard said. 

"No, God's honest truth," the redhead smiled. "Well, anyways, for 'Mione's two friends, their potion worked out perfectly. Turned them into exactly who they had been planning to be." 

"Vell, vhat about this Herm-own-ninny?" 

"As it turns out," Ron continued, "She accidentally put a cat's hair in her potion, thinking it was the real hair, and she grew all of this black fur all over her face, her eyes turned yellow, and she had cat's ears growing up through her hair. Horrid, it was." 

"Vhat happened?" 

"Well, eventually she got herself all fixed back up again, but that's a little adventure she and her friends wouldn't ever forget," Ron told him. 

Viktor's brow arched just then. "Vell, vhat ended up becoming uff her?" 

The redhead sighed. "Oh, you know, wound up pregnant, married some stubborn prat right of Hogwarts." 

*** 

Hermione swore she thought she was going to have a heart-attack. 

When she'd reached the old village Quidditch field, it was no surprise that mayhem had pretty much taken over the place, as it always did whenever Fred and George were nearby. But plenty of witches and wizards who'd joined in on the game were now sprawled out on the grass, having either gotten bonked by the Quaffle, one of the Bludgers, or both. Fred and George were still airborne however, and by the looks of it, were swinging their clubs wildly, obviously pretending to be blind to the Bludgers. 

Looking up frantically, Hermione cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "Dad! Are you up there?" 

Fred and George ceased from their crazy club-flinging, and looked down at their sister-in-law. "I think maybe he's already gotten thunked by the Quaffle!" 

"Oh, oh, stars," she muttered to herself, stepping around the other people on the ground, looking for her dad. At last she found him sprawled underneath a clump of bushes and quickly she grabbed his arm and dragged him out onto the grass. "Daddy! Dad, are you all right?" 

Before there was any sort of response, Hermione heard a movement behind her, and turned around. "Viktor!" She nearly shouted, her heart dropping into her stomach as she saw him closely accompanied by Ron. "What are you doing here?" 

"I've come to deliver your fiancé," Ron put in, smiling a strange smile. 

Viktor looked back at the redhead. "I think she vos talking to me," he said curtly. 

Ron's reply, however, was completely unrelated. Staring meaningfully at Hermione, he said to the dark-haired wizard, "You and I are in love with two completely different woman." And with that, he disappeared. 

Viktor looked confusedly back at his bride-to-be. "What did he mean by vhat?" 

Hermione sighed, feeling defeated at last. "He's my husband." 

His eyes widened. "You're _married _to that man?" 

Before he could respond, however, at that moment, Mr. Granger popped up, rubbing his forehead. "Oh," he groaned, "I think I took a shot right in the head that time." He noticed Viktor. "Oh, hello, you must be my Hermione's fiancé. Name's John Granger." Mr. Granger held out his hand to shake. 

Viktor didn't take it. He glanced back over at Hermione, murmuring to himself, "Herm-own-ninny Granger. . ." 

"And that was Ron. . .Weasley, do you remember?" She replied weakly, referring to the wizard who had just left them. "I came down here to finalize my divorce -" Hermione started to explain, but Viktor was already walking away. Chasing after him, she cried, "No, no, Viktor! Please don't go, not like this! Look, I'm sorry I lied to you, but please don't leave before I can have a chance to explain myself!" 

He whirled around quite suddenly, fire in his eyes. "All I know, Herm-own-ninny and vhatever your last name is today, is vhat vhere is a stop for the Knight Bus at the end uff High Street, and I vill be on it!" And with that, Viktor stomped away from Hermione, leaving her alone on the Quidditch field. 

*** 

As the sun set outside the Granger home kitchen window, Charlotte Granger was inside, stirring something inside a large copper pot on the stove. Hermione was curled up in one of the kitchen chairs nearby, hand cradling her forehead as she stared at the floor. 

After several moments of silence between them, she finally murmured to her mother, "I know what you're probably thinking. I botched things up dreadfully this time." 

Mrs. Granger tipped the contents of a bowl on the counter into the saucepan. "Oh, now, love, don't assume anything of the sort. That's really all up to you what's unfixable and what's not." She paused, picking up a bottle from the counter and pouring its thick, dark, contents into a measuring cup. "Like this molasses. Now, it's not nearly as sweet as regular maple syrup, but it really makes the tastiest treacle pudding." 

Hermione looked up at her mother. "Do you need a hand?" 

Mrs. Granger glanced over at her daughter and smiled. "Well, sure. Come over here and put in the milk, would you, love?" 

The curly-haired witch grabbed the milk bottle and a measuring cup, preparing to pour it into the saucepan. "You know, it was actually kind of funny seeing Dad out there on a Quidditch pitch. He used to be so down-to-earth, you know. . ." 

Charlotte laughed and smiled. "That was before you got to him, and had him living out here with all these magic folk." 

"Yeah, I guess I did do that, didn't I?" Hermione joined her mother's laughter. 

As Mrs. Granger was stirring the pudding and Hermione was chopping up the pecans, forgetting how much she sometimes missed doing things in the common Muggle way, Mr. Granger came inside, bursting through the front door. 

"Well, lookie who I found roaming up and down High Street!" He exclaimed, and the next thing Hermione knew, Viktor Krum was standing in her living room. 

"Ah, hello," he said nervously. 

"Hi," she replied, very softly. "I was sure you'd be back to Bulgaria by now." 

"So did I," Viktor replied. 

Hermione was quiet for a long moment, and then finally she spoke. "Er, this is my mum, Charlotte. She makes the best treacle pudding you've ever tasted." 

Mrs. Granger flushed. 

"And, er, this is my dad, John. You've already met him." Hermione paused. "They're not magic folk, they just moved here with me after Hogwarts to be nearer to me. And this is our house." 

Viktor gave them a friendly smile. "Vell, it is good to be meeting you both." Turning back to Hermione, he said tenderly, "Ah, Herm-own-ninny, I understand vhat you have a past. Who does not? All vhat I need to know, however, is if vhere is a place for me in your future." 

Hermione gave him a watery smile, and then stepped forward to embrace him. Viktor hugged back warmly. "Ah, you know everyone is expecting us to be having our vedding in London, but you know vhat, I am thinking that a small cozy vedding here in the village sounds vonderful." 

"Really?" She exclaimed, smiling. "I was hoping that we could." 

Viktor looked up at Mr. and Mrs. Granger. "John, Char-o-lette?" He asked, stammering over her name as he did with Hermione's, "If you vould be so kind to cover the reception, I really vould like to handle everything else." 

"Why, sure, I think we could do that," Mrs. Granger replied brightly. "John?" 

He thought for a moment, and then at last smiled, "Well, of course! How many times does your only daughter get married, you know?" 

A funny pause engulfed them, and Hermione's dad stammered, "Well, I mean, other than that last time. . .," and the four of them laughed, although Hermione almost had to force it from her lungs. 

*** 

The next afternoon, Viktor returned home to Bulgaria to update his mother on the most recent news. However, Portia wasn't too thrilled about it. As they sat back in the breakfast nook once again, Portia was exclaiming, "The vedding in Hogsmeade? That tiny little village in the middle of novhere? Are you sure about this, Viktor, dear?" 

"Yes, mother, very!" He assured her, reaching for one last cup of tea before departing. "This is vhat Herm-own-ninny and I vant, all vright?" 

"But she _lied_ to you!" Portia shot back. "I don't know vhich is vorse, all uff those stories she made up about her past, or the fact vhat she has come from a homely little place like vhat!" 

"Mum, she vos embarrassed about her past! But Herm-own-ninny has come clean, now, so let us forgive her for it. Really, who has not been embarrassed by vair parents at one time or another?" He said poignantly. 

Portia sniffed impatiently. "I am going to assume vhat was hypovetical!" 

Viktor merely sighed. "Assume avay, Mother. But face it - vhere is a vedding in your future, vhether you like it or not." 

*** 

All for the next two weeks, Hermione back in London, she, Viktor, and Viktor's mother working on the wedding plans. For location in Hogsmeade, Portia seemed to have her heart set on the Clarke plantation, something on which Hermione was extremely edgy about, but she agreed on anyway. Though she had asked Portia why, and the dark-haired older woman simply said smartly, "Well, it vos the muse for your identity, vos it not?" 

And as she and Viktor bustled through Diagon Alley, trying to find a flower shop to make their floral arrangement for the wedding, Hermione couldn't help but think about those lovely purple roses from the Quidditch festival and where they had come from. 

She'd also owled Ron a countless number of times over the two weeks, but every time Mimi had come back, there was never an answer to her letters. 

*** 

**To Be Continued**

****


	7. A Wedding or Not?

**AN ~ **I almost hate to say it, but the story has at last come to its final chapter! (But, look on the bright side, HP&COS is only in three more days!!) Thank you multiplied by infinity to everyone who has been reading this from the get-go and leaving all of those lovely reviews. [Especially you, Jen, I owe you tons ;-) P.S. I have to tell you that I printed out all of the "Knight and His Queen" lists (I hope you don't mind) to add to the bedroom wall I have dedicated to R/Hr fan-stuff, and I used up two rolls of Scotch tape! LOL.] well, thanks again everyone, and enjoy ;-) 

*** 

**Return To Hogsmeade**

**Chapter Seven**

****

****-dutchtulips- 

*** 

A few days later, only two before the big day, Hermione and Maya were both getting off the Knight Bus in Hogsmeade. As they both hauled their luggage and started up the street, Maya was talking energetically with Hermione. 

"See, what have I been telling you from the beginning, Herm? Should have known yourself that you'd be wearing those wedding dress robes while you slowly started up that aisle, Viktor smiling back at you. . ." She sighed. "It's too romantic." 

Hermione rolled her eyes, amused. "Maybe so, but -" suddenly her eye caught a sign that was plastered on the side of Gladrags Wizardwear. "Maya, come here and look! It's what was stamped on the bottom of those roses I was telling you about!" 

The blond witch rushed alongside her friend as they both got a better look at the poster, which said, _The Grand Old Greenhouse, 97 South Poseidon Street, Hogsmeade._ Hermione couldn't help but grin. "Come on!" She exclaimed, pulling Maya the opposite way up the street. "I really want to show you this." 

*** 

At last the two of them reached the greenhouse, and quickly Hermione raced up the steps ahead of Maya, but not before she stopped and froze on the stoop, recognizing a very familiar looking Tsunami broomstick propped up just inside the door. Maya caught up her, and brushed in ahead, tugging at the cuff of Hermione's robes. "Come on, let's go inside." 

The greenhouse was packed with different magic plants of all kinds, and it was also filled with dozens of witches and wizards, all browsing through the beautiful flowers, herbs, and other plants. Hermione looked feverishly all around for several moments, and then raced to back of the greenhouse which had hundreds of purple roses staring at she and Maya from every direction. 

"Wow. . ." Her friend murmured. "These are gorgeous." 

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, they are. They can live for decades, even after they been uprooted and cut. You can use the same bouquet to decorate your dining room table forever!" 

"I never knew that," Maya replied, reaching over to the nearest pot to touch the beautiful blossoms. As she was doing so, Hermione wandered ahead a little bit, and found Gizmo. 

She leaned over and gave him a pat on the head, saying, "Where is he, Gizmo?" Almost immediately, the cat took off like a shot, Hermione following close behind. At last found Ron, on the other side of the aisle, knelt on the floor and pruning a rosebush. 

Ron heard her approach and looked up, and then the two of them locked eyes. The redhead stood as she came even closer, whispering, "Oh, Ron. . ." 

He smiled, never taking his eyes away from her. "You should have a nice look around, a lot of the flowers look great this time of year." 

At that moment, Maya rounded the corner, staring on at Ron and Hermione. He noticed her, and then said to Hermione, "You and your friend might want to go out to the back patio as well. The weather's awfully nice today." 

"Yeah, yeah, we sure will," she finally managed to say, and before she could utter anything else, Ron gave her one last smile and disappeared. 

*** 

The next day, the day before the wedding, Portia Krum had arrived in Hogsmeade, and right on the Granger doorstep herself. Charlotte, however, was delighted to be meeting her for the first time, gave her a hearty hug and said, "Mrs. Krum! Oh, it's so wonderful to meet you at last!" 

"Yes, yes, you as vell, Mrs. Granger. I am very delighted, too," she replied, though her tone really didn't suggest anything of the sort. 

Mrs. Granger however, hadn't noticed. "Oh, never mind that missus. You call me Charlotte, okay?" She smiled cheerily. 

Mr. Granger, who'd also rushed out to shake Portia's hand, said curtly, "Charmed meet you, Mrs. Krum." 

"Oh, vell, surely, call me Portia," she replied, giving them both a smile. 

John grinned at her as the three of them all stepped inside the house and into the living room. "I'll bet you could use a drink, huh, Portia?" 

"Yes," she said weakly, "Yes, I most certainly could." 

Hermione, who had been watching from the kitchen doorway with Maya, groaned inwardly, "I just know this is going to be a disaster. You know, the sort where only insects survive." 

Maya merely shrugged. 

*** 

At last it was the wedding day. In the sweeping lush backyard of the Clarke mansion, everything was set up and ready to go, and almost everyone in Hogsmeade was preparing themselves to be present at a wedding that afternoon. 

Everyone, that was, it seemed, except for one Ron Weasley. 

Sitting on the front porch of his house, as some vaguely threatening gray clouds began to roll overhead, the redhead hastily shoved some gardening equipment inside of his rucksack. He'd just about finished and taken everything he needed when a sudden dull _pop_ from behind startled him. 

"There's a wedding going on in a couple of hours, you know." 

Ron swung his chair around, bringing his mother, who had just Apparated in his front yard, into view. "So?" He said sharply, pushing something else inside his bag. "I've got to get out to the hill before the rain starts so I can irrigate those purple roses." 

Molly slowly mounted the front steps and approached her youngest son, saying, "Well, for someone who's held onto something for so long, he sure is pretty quick to let it go." 

Ron fastened the button on his rucksack, slung it on, and reached for his Tsunami. "You know, Mum, I can't control Hermione anymore than I can prevent tomorrow from happening. She's a big girl, she can make her own decisions." He clambered onto his broom. 

"All right, Ron, dear, whatever you say, but -" 

"But what, Mum? But what?" The redhead exclaimed, staring over at Mrs. Weasley. 

"Just - have your own way, I reckon," she shrugged. "Whatever that is now. I'm not even quite sure that you know." 

Ron sighed, ruffling his hair impatiently. He didn't seem to have an answer for that. "Well, Mum, you go to the wedding if you want. I've got things to do." 

As he sped off down the road on his Tsunami, Molly merely watched and sighed. 

*** 

Meanwhile, back at Clarke mansion, Hermione was standing in front of the full-length mirror in one of the upstairs bedrooms, watching her mother as she helped her daughter fasten her wedding dress robes. "Feeling a bit nervous, love?" Mrs. Granger commented. 

"A little," Hermione replied. "Weren't you at your wedding?" 

"Oh," Charlotte started to smile. "I could barely put one foot in front of the next back then. I kept screaming at the preacher inside of my head to just hurry up before John changes his mind." She paused. "I was just crazy for that man, and I still am." 

Hermione smiled. 

"Though heaven knows I just want to wring his neck from time to time. But -" 

" -You still love him," she said softly. 

"Stars, yes. I don't know what it would have been like without your father all these years." Mrs. Granger took down Hermione's veil from the vanity and draped the silken white mesh down over her daughter's face, all the while Hermione's thoughts were racing elsewhere. 

*** 

Viktor stood proudly at the altar in the backyard of the Clarke mansion, watching the crowd of guests immersed in quiet conversation as they all awaited the wedding march to begin. Some musicians in the corner were playing on a lute and a couple of violins, setting the usual peaceful mood of a wedding. But at last the light music ceased and they started the wedding march, bringing every one in the yard to full attention. 

Hermione, her bouquet in one hand and holding onto her father's arm with the other, started nervously down the aisle, where she could see Viktor beaming at her from the altar. At last feeling somewhat calmer, that something had at last gone right, she continued with Mr. Granger up the aisle, but halfway there, a sudden voice stopped her in her tracks. 

"Miss Clarke! Miss Clarke!" 

Hermione turned around, as did almost everyone of the guests, trying to locate the owner of the voice. At last she did, recognizing the person as none other than Emma O'Sullivan, Head of the Dissolution of Matrimony Office at the Ministry of Magic. She was running up the aisle, headed straight for Hermione. 

"Miss Clarke, I've got to speak with you!" She exclaimed, at last reaching the bride, waving some parchment in the air. 

In a whisper, Hermione said, "Miss O'Sullivan, he signed the papers. What are you doing here?" 

"He did," Emma agreed, nodding. "But - you didn't." 

Viktor suddenly appeared at Hermione's shoulder. "Herm-own-ninny, I vought that you had taken care uff vis." 

"It's an honest mistake!" She assured him, and then looked all around in a frenzy. "Has anyone got a quill?" 

There was a commotion in the crowd as everyone appeared to be checking their pockets for the requested writing utensil. Viktor turned and looked towards his mother, but she merely rolled her eyes, saying sarcastically, "Oh, uff course, Viktor. Can we please just get on with this before we all get soaked?" She gestured up at the dark cloudy sky. 

At last Molly Weasley was in front of Hermione, holding a worn quill out towards her. "These things don't just happen by accident, you know," she whispered to her daughter-in-law. 

Hermione peered at her for a moment, and then took the quill and lowered it to the parchment to sign her name. Hesitating, she glanced up at Viktor, who was smiling encouragingly, and then looked back down at the paper, placing the tip to the line. But at last her nerves overtook her, and she put down the quill, looking over at Viktor. 

"Oh, Viktor," she began. "You don't want to marry me." 

He looked at her strangely. "I don't?" 

"No, you don't." Hermione replied, her voice breaking up. "You see, I gave my entire heart away a long time ago, and the truth is, I never really got it back." She paused. "I'm sorry, I just can't marry you. And you shouldn't want to marry me either." 

The solemn look Viktor had on his face suddenly changed, and he smiled sadly. "Do not be sorry for the vorkings of your own heart, Herm-own-ninny. It is all right." 

Mrs. Krum, anger flashing in her eyes, was immediately at her son's side. "So vhat is it?" She demanded. "You are just going to let her embarrass you like vhat?!" 

He nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes, I think I vill." Viktor reached over and took Hermione's hand, kissing it. "Vell, if you vill excuse me," and he slipped through the throng of guests and disappeared inside the manor. 

Portia, who had watched her son go, suddenly turned back to Hermione. "In all uff my _life_, never haff I met someone so _deceitful_! You haff humiliated my Viktor! Go after him, you little spitfire!" 

Mrs. Granger stepped in just then. "Hey there, there's no need for that!" She exclaimed, her anger rising. "She's spoken her peace, and that's all there is to it!" 

Mrs. Krum turned angrily back to Charlotte, snapping, "Oh, vhy do you not clam up, you stupid Muggle?" 

And as Hermione had done once before, nearly twelve years ago to Draco Malfoy, reared her fist backwards and landed an uppercut to Mrs. Krum's jaw. "Don't you _dare_ insult my mother like that!" She shouted as the dark-haired Bulgarian woman slumped over to the ground. 

Excited pandemonium erupted from the crowd, and the next second hundreds of raindrops plunked down upon the backyard, getting everyone completely drenched. Hermione felt giddy as she ran along with them, kicking off her Mary Janes and yanking the veil from her head as she caught Harry, Fred, George, Neville, Ginny, and Angelina in the throng. "Everyone who's friends of the bride, stick around!" She grinned. "I'm going to go fetch myself a husband!" 

*** 

Hiking up Allegheny Hill in the pouring rain was no easy chore, but Hermione in her clinging and soaked wedding dress robes somehow managed. The wet grass felt refreshing on her bare feet as she raced through the vast garden and after Ron, where she could see him, his back turned to her, leaning over the purple rosebushes and getting them underneath an overhang so they wouldn't risk the possibility of getting flooded out. 

"Hey, Weasley!" She called out to him. "You owe me a dance." 

Abruptly he straightened, turning slowly around to look at her. "Where's your husband?" He asked lightly. 

"I'm looking at him!" Hermione grinned. "Apparently you and I are still married." 

A smile slowly spread across Ron's face. "Is that so?" 

"Yeah." 

Shoving his pruning shears into his rucksack, he slung the bag on and started down the hill. "What is it about you British witches?" He asked. "Can't go with the right thing after you've tried all the wrong ones first?" 

Hermione chased after him. "Well, at least I go after what I want!" 

Ron turned back around. "Well, what _do_ you want, 'Mione? I'm not sure that _you_ know!" He shouted over the rain, and then started back down the hill again. 

"Fine! Be that way, you great big prat!" She shouted after him. 

Ron dropped his shoulders and looked back at her once more, saying, "Bloody hell, why d'you want to married to me for, anyhow?" 

Hermione grinned so hard she thought she'd bust. Ron returned it with his ever-famous lopsided beam as she ambled over towards him, slipping her arms around his neck. "So that I can kiss you anytime I want." And she leaned in towards him and covered his mouth with hers as they both shared a deeply passionate kiss while the cool rain teemed all around them. 

They stood together in their warm embrace, lips fused together, for several minutes, until a new voice broke through the rain. 

"Hey! What're you two doing, trying to drown yourselves?" 

Ron and Hermione broke apart suddenly, startled by the voice. As Hermione glanced down across to the street, she saw Harry, there, grinning. 

The redhead laughed. "Well then, what seems to be the problem there, Mr. Auror?" 

"Well, from what I hear, it seems that Hermione there's run out on a perfectly good cake!" 

*** 

From inside the Three Broomsticks, among the party guests, Fred and George were wheeling in the tall wedding cake just as Harry came in from the rainstorm, calling out to everyone, "Hey everyone, guess who's finally made it to their reception! Mr. and _Mrs._ Ron Weasley!" 

Everyone cheered and clapped, Ginny, Angelina, Neville, and the twins the loudest, as a rain-soaked Ron and Hermione walked into the tavern and joined in on the cheers. Through the throng of people, the redhead pulled his wife gently to the middle of the bar, saying as he grinned down at her, "Well, I do believe I owe this woman a dance." 

Another burst of cheering broke out and, as Mrs. Weasley stepped over to the W.W.N. jukebox, Hermione smiled and said, "Hey Molly?" 

She looked up, smiling back at her daughter-in-law, "Yes, dear?" 

"Make it a slow one." 

Mrs. Weasley grinned as she pressed a button on the large radio, and as a sappy romantic tune filled the air, Hermione leaned into Ron once more, their mouths mingling together in a sweet and loving kiss. 

*** 

**el fin**


End file.
